Chapter 3 - The Fracture
By that evening, the hospital was a beehive of nervous energy. I sat in the VIP suite, knitting, watching as Julian paced back and forth near the nursing station. He was checking his phone every thirty seconds, his brow furrowed.
"Is something wrong, dear?" I asked, looking up from my needles.
"A technical glitch in the billing department," he snapped, his composure fraying. "Incompetent staff."
"It’s always the people you underestimate who cause the most damage," I murmured.
He stopped, eyeing me with sudden suspicion. "What did you say?"
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"I said, it’s a shame when foundations crack."
Just then, his pager went off. It wasn’t a medical alert; it was an urgent notification from the hospital board. His face went pale as he glanced at the message. The evidence of his financial malfeasance was being projected onto the screens in the boardroom, where the board members were currently holding an emergency meeting. I had spent the last two years quietly documenting the discrepancies in his surgical records and the "donations" he forced patients to make. I hadn't just sent an audit; I had sent a death warrant for his career.
